


Midnight Blue

by Pugglemuggle



Category: LoliRock (Cartoon)
Genre: (that's an understatement), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Covens, Demons, F/F, Horror, Iris is the Damsel in Distress, Mephisto and Praxima aren't very nice, Misses Clause Challenge, Sorceresses, Spirits, Supernatural Elements, Talia saves the day, WITCHES AU, Witchcraft, Witches, wraiths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 14:52:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8921386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pugglemuggle/pseuds/Pugglemuggle
Summary: On a cold winter's night, Iris makes her way home alone in the dark. Little does she know that a world of wraiths, ravens, and witchcraft is watching her every step.Or, the Witch Coven AU.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VampirePaladin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampirePaladin/gifts).



> Written for Yuletide 2016. I looked through the fandom tag and was appalled to see that no one had written any Iris/Talia yet, and thus, this fic was born. I hope you like it!

Fear brings the world into crystal focus.

Iris fixates on the ice of the mid-winter breeze, the snow beneath her feet, and the white clouds her breath makes after each sharp exhale. She sees the full moon and the moonlight spilling out onto the snow-covered grass, the yellow light from the streetlamps and the dull glow from the windows of the buildings behind her. She feels the pounding of her heart and the trembling of her shoulders. But most of all, she’s tracking the smoke.

She thinks she’s imagining it at first—the curls of murky soot that seep up along the ground next to her, just at the periphery of her vision. When she turns to look, they’re gone. She shakes her head and keeps walking across the courtyard towards her apartment.

She sees it again a few minutes later, slipping around the base of a tree just off to the right, the seething black tendrils crawling up the bark like spiders on a thread. She freezes and stares, but as soon as her eyes focus on the tree trunk the smoke is gone again.

Just to be safe, Iris dials 2-1-1 as she walks and hovers her thumb over the “CALL” button. It’s silly, she tells herself. It’s just her imagination. But rationalizations won’t stop the fear from spreading like ice over her heart.

The third time she sees it, it doesn’t disappear. She’s nearing the end of the courtyard when floods of smoke cascade down from the buildings on either side of the path. The swirling blackness blocks her way completely, making her stumble backwards and fall. She flings her arm back to catch herself. The frigid snow bites her bare palm.

Her heart stills—a solid, empty block in her chest. This is terror.

“Well, she’s certainly made it easy for us,” says a shrill voice from the dark. Iris whips her head to the left, trying to locate it. “At this rate I doubt we’ll even have to deal with collateral damage.”

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” says another voice, deeper this time. It makes her want to crawl out of her skin.

A chilling breeze sweeps under her hair—close. Too close. “They’re Chosen, Mephisto—they’re always pretty,” the first voice says into the shell of Iris’s ear. She jerks backwards. A scream rips out of her throat before fear steals her voice entirely, as if all the air vanished from her lungs.

Her phone. She needs her phone.

Iris’s fingers fumble with her touch screen, trying to hit “CALL”. Her hands are so shaking badly that the phone slips from her fingers and falls into the snow. She picks it up and tries again but the smoke lashes out and sends the phone flying.

“Careful now,” says the deeper voice. “We can’t have those humans getting involved, now can we?”

“What do you want?” Iris manages to say. Her voice sounds weak and hoarse, as though spoken by someone else.

“Such a boring question. You’re not very smart, are you?” the shrill voice says. “Don’t worry—the dead don’t need to be smart.”

A spiral of dark smoke shoots out and coils itself around her ankle like a snake, so cold it burns. The pain is enough to shock her in to screaming, “Help! Somebody help!”

A different arm of smoke begins to constrict around her throat. “Hm, that won’t do,” the deeper voice says. “Hush. No one is coming to help you—”

The voice is cut off. Something large and winged swoops out of the sky, flying directly into the black cloud before her. There’s a shriek from the two voices, and then a bright, blinding blue light explodes from the middle of the swirling smoke. It’s bright enough that the color is seared into the center of Iris’s vision, and even after her eyes fly shut and her arm comes up to shield her face from the light, the imprint of the flash still flares up behind her eyelids.

She hears several more unearthly screeches and the clang of what sounds like clashing metal before the noises subside and she dares to open her eyes again. The smoke has dissipated. In its place is a pale blue glow, emanating from a tall humanoid figure standing several feet away in the pathway before her. The being steps forward. Iris recoils.

“Don’t be afraid,” the figure says. As it draws nearer, Iris begins to make out a feminine figure with warm umber skin and long blue hair streaking down her shoulders like ice. Her eyes are as wise and dark as oak. She’s beautiful—ethereally beautiful. Iris can’t look away.

“Are you hurt?” the woman asks. Iris can’t find the words to respond. “Are you hurt?” the woman asks again.

“I… I don’t think so,” Iris says. She tries to stand, but her legs wobble beneath her and she tumbles back into the snow.

“Here,” the woman says, extending a hand. Hesitantly, Iris takes it. The woman helps her stand to her feet. Her grip is the only warm thing in the whole city, Iris thinks. Even after Iris has regained her balance, she’s reluctant to let go.

“Thank you,” Iris says. “Thank you for saving my life. I— I don’t know what it was that attacked me, they just came out of nowhere—”

“They were wraiths,” the woman says, her teeth gleaming white in the darkness. “Restless spirits turned evil with hatred for the living. They usually don’t come after ordinary people. Do you know why they attacked you?”

“No, I… I’m sorry,” Iris says. She tries to remember what the wraiths said to her, but it all seems like a blur. “I think… I think they said I was ‘Chosen’, but I’m not sure what that means.”

“They said you were Chosen?” the woman says, her eyes suddenly turning severe. Iris is trapped in her gaze, unable to move. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” Iris says. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Interesting,” the woman murmurs. She drops Iris’s hand suddenly and begins to walk away. “Go straight home. Don’t leave again until the sun rises. If you follow my instructions, you’ll be safe—I promise.”

Iris watches her walk away, her hand feeling cold without the warmth of the other woman’s palm. “Wait!” she calls out. The woman stops and Iris takes in a breath. “Who are you?”

The woman turns around, facing Iris fully. In the moonlight, she looks nothing short of a goddess.

“I am Talia, High Priestess of the Coven of Xeris,” the woman says. “I am a sorceress.”

“Will I see you again?” Iris asks. Her voice sounds desperate, even to her own ears, but the woman—Talia—only smiles.

“I should hope so,” she says. Then she lifts her arms once, like a dancer at the beginning of a performance, and in an instant she’s gone. A raven with feathers as blue as midnight soars off into the winter sky. Iris watches her go, mesmerized. Soon Talia is no more than a tiny dark speck against the moon.

Just like Talia promised, Iris gets home without further incident. The moment she walks through the door she immediately sets about turning on every light in her apartment—every switch, every lamp, every bulb and candle. She doesn’t think it will do her any good if the wraiths were to attack again, but it still makes her feel safer, somehow. It gives her some semblance of control against the dark.

She lies awake in bed for hours. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees the smoke again, curling around her ankle and neck. She tosses and turns as the night slowly gives way to the early glimmer of morning, and it’s then that Iris finally manages to keep the memories at bay long enough to drift off into a restless sleep. Daylight trickles through the curtains. The last thing on her mind before she lets sleep overtake her is the memory of the warmth of Talia’s hand in her own.

Iris will see Talia again. Fate rarely sees fit to tangle threads only once. After all, Iris has a destiny. She is Chosen.

The Coven of Ephedia calls.


End file.
